


Holy Burns

by ComicBooksBro



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Apocalypseverse Michael Possessing Dean Winchester, Burns, Desperate Dean Winchester, Fire, Gen, Possessed Dean Winchester, Scared Castiel (Supernatural), Scared Sam Winchester, holy oil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-14 08:49:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28792701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ComicBooksBro/pseuds/ComicBooksBro
Summary: Dean calls Sam out of the blue, months after vanishing when he let Michael possess him.He says he's found a way to get rid of Michael, and drastic measures need to be taken.
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester
Kudos: 12
Collections: r/Darkfics Monthly Prompt Challenge





	Holy Burns

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [r/darkfics](https://www.reddit.com/r/DarkFics/) monthly prompt challenge over on reddit.
> 
> I chose the prompt 'fuel.'

Sam’s phone rings at an ungodly hour of the morning. It’s an hour at which anyone who has a shred of intelligence should be asleep, but he isn’t, and neither is Cas. They’re both zoned out at a table, sipping tea and trying to stay awake long enough to finish tracing a possible lead on Dean.

They haven’t heard from him since Michael took over his body and disappeared, just under six months ago. They’ll be lucky if Dean is still in there by the time they find him, much less coherent.

At this point, Sam has started to lose hope, and he thinks Cas has, too, though all the angel seems to do (other than take care of Jack) is look for Dean. Sam is ready to cry from exhaustion, and is debating turning in before he passes out at the table, which is when his phone rings. He snatches it off the stack of books it had been haphazardly thrown onto earlier, and glances at the caller ID before answering.

It’s Dean.

Dean’s other, other cell, to be precise, but Sam couldn’t care less——it’s Dean, and this is more on him than they’ve gotten in months.

Sam raises the phone to his ear. “Dean?”

He can see Cas’ head perk up. “Dean?” He whispers, all of his attention suddenly on Sam.

Sam shrugs and sets the phone down on the table, pressing the speaker button as he does so. Static buzzes from the speakers, and Sam realizes a moment later that it’s heavy, panicked breathing.

“Dean?”

_“S-Sammy?”_

There’s a shocked yet relived noise from Cas at the sound of Dean’s voice, shaky as it may be.

“I’m here,” Sam says. “So is Cas. Just tell us where you are and we can come get you.”

“Are you hurt?” Cas adds.

_“I’m past saving,”_ Dean mutters. There’s a clacking sound as he moves the phone, and a heavy, tense sigh before he speaks again. _“I found a way to get rid of Michael, but I don’t know how much longer I’m gonna be able to stay in the driver’s seat, so I need to do this now.”_ Tears choke Dean's voice, and it sounds like he’s struggling to get the words out.

Sam grabs his phone and turns on Dean’s GPS tracker. He’s less than five miles away. How had be been so close without someone noticing? Sam internally kicks himself for his error.

“Whatever you think you need to do, don’t do it.” Sam’s voice comes out more shaky than he wants it to. “We can figure this out, Dean, just hold on.” He flips the phone around and pushes it over to Cas so he can see Dean’s location. Cas nods and starts running for the garage without a word. Sam follows, the phone——his one lifeline to Dean——clutched tightly in hand. Cas throws him the keys to the Impala and Sam slides into the driver’s side.

“We’re coming,” Cas says as Sam starts up the car and pulls out onto the road, far too recklessly.

_“Don’t. Please.”_ There’s a wet sloshing sound on Dean’s end. Sam presses the gas pedal to the floor, ignoring Baby’s protests. _“I called to say goodbye. Not to ask for help. This is the only way.”_ Dean sighs, and Sam can tell his brother is preparing himself for something. _“I’m sorry.”_

Words hide in that small statement, speeches they don’t have time for, and things Sam knows Dean is too guarded to let himself say to anyone, even on death’s door. Cas hears it, too, and goes to respond, but the dial tone sounds before he can.

Sam takes a turn so sharp he nearly flips the car, but they stay on the road, and an old house, so riddled with holes it’s about to fall down, comes into view. That’s where Dean is, Sam’s sure of it.

He breaks abruptly, kills the engine, and bolts for the building as fast as he can. Cas follows, less than five steps behind.

The door is knocked down easily, Sam runs into it——shoulder-first——and it crumbles. Rotted material falls everywhere, stirring up a molded, heavy smell. Dean stands in the middle of the mossy, dirt-floored living room, his back to Sam.

A golden, shiny liquid stains his skin, and the floor around him, and when he turns around, Sam can see where tears have broken the coating of what he assumes to be holy oil. Dean’s hair is slick with it, and he’s shaking like a leaf. There are dark circles under his eyes, deeper than Sam can ever remember, and he looks like he hasn’t eaten in a week.

There’s a lighter in his hand, and his finger is resting on the striker. Sam’s stomach drops, and he can hear Cas stop dead in his tracks.

“Dean,” Cas says quietly, “don’t do this.”

“This is how we kill Michael,” Dean says, his voice rough. “There’s no other way. He’s too strong.” He shuffles back, and the oil makes a squishing sound as he steps. “I just needed to tell you. And say goodbye.”

“We can help, just calm down.” Sam is starting to lose control of his formally calm voice. “We can find another way to get Michael out, just let us help you.”

“This _is_ the way,” Dean growls, blinking away more tears. "Bye, Sam. Cas." He flicks the lighter, and his oil-soaked jacket goes up in flames. From there, he calmly closes his eyes, drops the lighter, and lends control of his body back to the archangel inside his head. Michael screams as the rest of Dean’s body goes up in flames.

Sam——frozen in terror and shock——remembers the last time holy oil was used directly on an angel: it had been right before his decent into the cage with Lucifer, and Michael——the original one——had disappeared almost right after. But this isn’t the same at all.

This Michael had been expecting the holy oil, This Michael is in his true vessel.

And this Michael puts up a fight.

He roars in pain before dropping to his knees, then his side. Sam’s ears start to ring, and when he manages to tear his eyes away from Dean’s blazing body he can see Cas, pressed up against the wall in horror. Sam is suddenly thankful that he can’t see as much as Cas can. He can only imagine what agony Michael and Dean must be in, if Dean is still conscious, that is.

Sam forces himself to move, towards Dean’s body rather than away, and drag what is left of his brother out of the fire. He can smell Dean’s skin burning, and growls in pain as the flames lick at his own skin and hair. He hooks his arms under Dean’s and drags his convulsing body out of the holy inferno before kneeling next to him.

“Cas!” Sam shouts, “I need help!”

Cas seems to snap out of the shock keeping his plastered to the wall in horror, and stumbles over to Sam and Dean’s still-smoldering body. His eyes are alight with horror as Sam shovels anything he can on top of Dean in an effort to stop the oil from burning. Dean——eyes blank and foggy——chokes on air and howls--a noise of pure pain. Cas touches his fingertips to Dean’s dirt-streaked, burned forehead and concentrates, forcing grace into Dean’s failing body.

But the burns don’t heal, and from the look of things, it’s talking all Cas has to just keep Dean alive.

As if on cue, Dean’s body spasms again and he howls in pain. “Let——“ He tries to say something else, but starts skipping over the same word like a broken record. His eyes stare ahead void of focus, formally bright and green, now dull and smoke-stained. “Let-le-let-let me...” he wheezes horribly in an attempt to take another breath. “D-di-d-die.”

What’s left of Dean’s hair is still smoldering, and his scalp is visible, though burned in spots. His face isn’t as bad as it could be, but it’s still bad. Most of the flesh over his left cheekbone is charred, and Sam might just be imagining things, but he’s almost certain he can see bone in some spots.

Cas is murmuring things to Dean in Enochian as he continues to pour as much grace into him as he can without passing out. It looks like Cas is running low on grace, though, and Dean isn’t looking any better. One of his pupils is blown so wide that it has almost obscured his iris, the other isn’t much more than a pinprick, and the white of his eyes are filled with blood.

Even without knowing how this ends, Sam is certain he’s going to have nightmares about this for years.

Dean’s charred right hand twitches——that’s definitely exposed bone——and he lets out an involuntary, pained yell. His eyes won’t focus together, but he still manages to pin Sam with the one under his control.

“‘Es gone,” Dean mumbles. “Michael’s gone.” His eyes roll back into his head and he shudders again. “T-ta-take care of Baby,” he wheezes, and it seems like it takes everything he has to push his next, slurred words out. “‘N each oth'r.”

“Hey, Dean, no.” Panic creeps into Sam’s voice. Dean can’t die. He can’t. “You’re gonna make it, okay?”

Cas looks sympathetically at Sam, his face a patchwork of stoic and wrecked. The air is too heavy, and all of a sudden Sam can’t breathe.

Dean’s head lolls to the side, and Sam wants to throw up when he sees fire-blackened vertebrae on display. Cas, pale from overexertion, drops his fingers from Dean’s forehead.

“I’m sorry,” Cas whispers, sounding like he’s just run a marathon. “There’s nothing else I can do.”

Dean’s eyes flutter shut.

A moment later, he stops breathing.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, comments and kudos appreciated!
> 
> <3


End file.
